The Heat of the Moment
by Amber Lehcar
Summary: The Nevada heat finally gets to the scythe and his meister.  Bad summary.  Rated for citrus.


**Thanks to my boyfriend's encouragement, I'm publishing this little fic. It started out fluffy when I started writing, then something went wrong... it turned orangey... limey? I don't even know... But it's not a lemon. Anywho, I don't own Soul Eater.**

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It's unbearably warm that morning as she cracks a viridian eye open. Staring out the window, she finds the sun is even melting in the intense heat. Sluggish and half-heartedly, she places her feet on the hardwood floor and makes her way to the refrigerator. If she's quick, she can finish a bowl of ice cream before her partner gets up and complains about never getting to eat junk food for breakfast.

By the time she gets to the kitchen, he's already got a spoonful of ice cream straight from the carton in his mouth. "Uh... morning, Maka," he mutters, removing the spoon from his mouth.

It's too hot for her to chastise him, so she opts to take the utensil from him and begins to eat out of the carton herself. She closes her eyes as she tastes strawberry. Suddenly, a tiny voice reminds her that Soul had had a taste, too, and that his taste probably lingers on the spoon. This thought forces open her eyes, making them as big as plates. She curses her father first for the thoughts. Then her own hormones. Glancing over to her partner, she reaches the realization that he has removed his shirt due to the heat. She curses him last.

Part of her wishes her feelings would be directed towards someone else. Someone who wouldn't outright reject her or make things awkward as they worked or lived together. The other part of her wishes he'd realize her feelings for him and reciprocate them without her having to go through the stress of a confession. She's pulled out of her thoughts as the object of her affection yanks the carton out of her hand.

"Didn't you ever learn to share?" he says with a smirk. She takes mental notes as she watches him eat. His tongue sticks out slightly before placing the spoon in his mouth. And his teeth lightly scrape the utensil as he removes it for another spoonful of ice cream. Noticing her staring at him, he says, "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Mortification sets in when she realizes she's been staring. To hide her embarrassment, she takes back the carton and spoon, sticks her tongue out at him, and runs to her room to finish off the ice cream.

The air conditioning does little to lessen the heat, and she wishes she lived in the mountains of Colorado instead of the deserts of Nevada. The ice cream is melting into a soup, the chunks of strawberries floating in the liquid. She sighs and sets aside the carton. No one wants to eat melted ice cream.

Finding it safe since she is within her room, the meister trades her pajama top for a sports bra. She'd have to remember to change back before wandering the apartment, or else incur the wrath of her partner like last time. To her, it doesn't seem fair. She lets him walk around shirtless, and she isn't allowed to walk about comfortably? She pushes aside the fact that she _enjoys_ seeing him shirtless. Maybe if she dressed like Blair for a day he would notice?

She eyes her closet for a moment. She'd discovered a few weeks back that the gift her father had bought for her after a major written exam was, in reality, bought by Blair. Something the cat had bought for herself. As punishment, Maka had hidden the lingerie in her closet away from Blair. But now she stares at the closet door, debating whether or not the articles of clothing would actually help her confess. She blinks a few times then throws herself face down on the bed, unable to believe she's just considered that an option.

She's too busy grumbling to herself to notice her partner walk into the room. He's taken a little aback at first, but he grins at her not long after the shock goes away and makes his way toward her. She's vaguely aware of someone's presence before careful fingers start rubbing into the muscles of her back. She's much too relaxed now to complain about his inability to knock before entering her room. She focuses on his long, delicate fingers that were made for playing the piano. She wonders if he'd use those fingers on her skin if she asked him to. Slipping into a fantasy, his fingers draw patterns on her stomach and arms. She opens her eyes and wonders if she's still fantasizing. His hands are no longer at her back. Somehow, they've managed to reach under her, lightly drawing shapes on her stomach just as she's dreamed.

This startles her, and she clambers away. He cocks his head to the side in confusion like a dog. "What's the matter?" She's unable to speak, and her heart is pounding so loud, she's sure he can hear it. Once again, she curses her father, her hormones, and the fact that he looks almost godlike without a shirt. She's certain her body temperature rivals that of the temperature outside, and it's all thanks to those beautiful fingers of his that just _had_ to touch her.

He's concerned he's done something horribly wrong and is going to die by medical dictionary very soon. But he hides his fear with relative ease and asks, "Why are you so red, Maka?" He means to ask with sincerity, but she blushes even more. His concern is gone. She's embarrassed to have him touch her in such a way. With a smirk, he continues, "Oh, so you like that, huh?" She looks everywhere around the room except at him, her blush finally reaching the same color intensity as his eyes. He chuckles softly and says, "I don't have to stop, you know. Just say the word, and I'll go back to the massage."

She not only wants him to touch her, she _needs_ him to touch her. But that need frightens her somewhat. To her horror, her muscles make her nod before her head can sort out the rush of different emotions. He helps her lay back down on her stomach and returns his hands to her back. She is nearly asleep when his fingers snake beneath the back of the bra she still wears. She'd kill him right then and there if it didn't feel so good. She bites back a sound when he breathes in her ear, "How ya feeling?"

He inwardly puffs with pride as her breathing picks up. He's wanted to do this for so long, and the Nevada heat is not going to stop him. His fingers go back to her stomach, and she squeaks slightly. "A litle ticklish, are we?" he teases her, his mouth close to her ear. She whines a little and begins to wiggle. He smirks and licks a little way down her spine. Despite her best efforts, she lets out a loud moan.

And with that, he flips her over and mashes his mouth to hers. He eases up a bit as she kisses him back. Soul Resonance sparks for only a moment as they simultaneously think, _"Finally!"_ They stop and stare wide-eyed at each other. They'd both wanted this all along? To his surprise, she places her hands on either side of his face and pulls him in for another kiss. She's inexperienced and shy and tired of thinking for once. She lets her instincts take over as her tongue glides along his bottom lip. He denies her entrance, and she gives a frustrated groan. Completely embarrassed about her behavior, she turns her head to the side and crosses her arms in front of her face.

"Come on, Maka, don't be like that," he laughs while one of his fingers hooks under the bottom of the front of her bra. She squeaks again in embarrassment and attempts to grab his hands. He has other ideas as he grabs both her wrists and raises them above hre head. Save for the few scraps of clothing she wears, she feels completely exposed under his gaze. "I wonder how far down your blush goes..." he whispers. She looks down and notices that her chest is red, probably the same shade as her face. She squeezes her eyes shut and wiggles again, trying to break free of his grasp.

Her movements stop once he attatches his mouth to her neck. She's forgotten how to breathe, and she feels like she's falling, swallowed by his very presence. She becomes vocal when he bgins to nibble at her skin, the only word in her vocabulary being his name. He lets go of her hands, and, unconciously, she places them on his chest. Her hands find his scar, and she is overcome with guilt. He must sense it because he stops and stares at where her hands are resting. Placing one of his hands on hers, he says in a reassuring tone, "This is a sign of my loyalty. A sign of my will to protect you. This... is a sign of my love..." He kisses her lips again and coaxes her tongue into his mouth. Unable to speak, she merely hums her happiness.

She's vaguely aware of his fingers once again hooking under her bra until he asks if he can remove it. She's torn between her modesty and her need. He assures her there's no rush, but she can tell he's slightly disappointed. Why, she doesn't know. She still has the body of a twelve-year-old. So why he's completely fascinated with her, she'll never know. For once, the bookworm doesn't know something. It's like walking around blind to her. He breathes her name, and she looks at him. His typically dull red eyes glimmer with love and devotion. She wants everything for, from, and of him. And so she nods.

She closes her eyes, not wanting to see his expression as he reveals herself to him. Time stands still for a moment. She's certain he's going to laugh at her. She opens her mouth to ask him to say something. But instead, a moan escapes her as he closes his mouth around one of her breasts. She buries her fingers in his hair and arches into him, determined to get as much of herself in his mouth as she can. She continues to moan until she hears the front door open.

"Blair's home~!" a female voice calls out. The two stare at each other in horror. "Soul? Maka? Where are you?" the cat calls louder. "You guys aren't doing anything indecent, are you?"

He throws the bra at his meister's face. She removes angrily and is about to yell at him before he kisses her. Pulling back, he says with a wink, "We'll have to continue this later, my dear." She blushes again and puts on her sports bra before he leaves. A loud thud is heard soon after he closes the door behind him. She opens the door to find the cat laying on him, practically suffocating him in her cleavage.

"What were you doing with Maka, nya?"

A muffled "Nothing!" is heard beneath the temptress.

"Uh huh, that's why you two are so red, huh?"

"It's really hot, and the air conditioner's not working very well!" the meister insists.

"Whatever you say. I won't pry any further. Just make sure to use a condom, nya~!" With that, the cat leaves the two blushing more furiously than before.


End file.
